In Love and War
by somebody's world
Summary: They say all is fair in love and war. With Ichigo and Rukia, though, there isn't much of a distinction between the two. Ichiruki, oneshot, futurefic, rated for safety.


-waves hello to Bleach fandom-

...So this is my first (posted) IchiRuki oneshot - but that's no reason to go easy on me! Seriously, I want your honest opinion on this. I was hesitant to even post it - there are parts I don't like at all - but overall I think it's all right, and I'm curious to see what you all think about it.

Warnings: mild language, (mainly implied) sexual themes - nothing too bad, really. Like I said, it's rated for safety.

Much as I wish I did, I do not own Bleach, Ichigo, or Rukia. It's probably a good thing, too, because if I did, there would be very little plot and far too much fluff. ;D

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**- in love and war -**

Ichigo knew he was in for it when he heard the door slam – _even more loudly than usual, _he noted grimly – and his fellow shinigami emit a frustrated sigh. He winced at the sound of wet shoes squeaking messily against the polished hardwood floors – _I'm going to have to clean that later_ – but at the moment he was more concerned for his own well-being than the cleanliness of his floors.

_Just stay calm, _he told himself. _Stay put and continue studying, like you've been doing for the past hour, since she left..._

No sooner had Ichigo picked up his pen to revise his latest draft of his research paper than the source of all the commotion came stomping into his study, taking care to make as much noise as possible along the way. Ichigo turned around slowly and reluctantly, bracing himself to survey the damage.

What he saw was Rukia, thoroughly soaked from head to toe with murky brownish liquid, her formerly purple sundress now almost black from the water and clinging tightly to her petite body. She was scowling angrily, and in her right hand she clutched a plastic grocery bag so tightly that her knuckles looked white. There were blades of grass stuck to her ankles and thighs – and, Ichigo noted regrettably, the sides and bottoms of her flip-flops were caked with mud, which she was now tracking into his study.

"Dammit, Rukia, I steam cleaned that carpet the other day!" he shouted at her by way of greeting.

"Do I look like I'm in the mood to listen to you whine about your carpet?" she snapped, tossing the plastic bag at Ichigo as if she were trying to knock him out with its contents. "You have _no idea _what I had to go through to get a freaking bar of soap. You're a jerk, you know that?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and deposited the bag onto his desk, noting irritably that it had splashed muddy water all over the pristine stack of research notes on his desk. "I didn't do anything," he replied monotonously.

"You wouldn't let me use yours," she argued.

"Because it's _mine,_" countered Ichigo. "You always use up the last of it without buying any more. Now it's your turn to get the soap."

Ichigo knew it was dangerous to argue with Rukia when she was having a bad day, but at the moment he was too stubborn to concede. _It's her own damn fault._

"Well, whatever. You shouldn't have sent me to the store right as it was about to rain."

Ichigo's jaw dropped at the accusation. "What the hell? First of all, I didn't _send _you to the store. You went there by yourself to get something _for _yourself. I wasn't involved in the slightest. And second of all, how the hell was I supposed to know it would rain?"

"You watch the weather every morning while you're eating breakfast," Rukia replied. "You never warned me it was going to rain today."

"I wasn't paying attention this morning! God, Rukia, I had a freaking exam at eight o'clock in the morning! You know, regardless of what you might think, medical school isn't easy. I'm going to be a _doctor, _Rukia, not a _weatherman._ If you're so concerned about the weather, watch it yourself."

Rukia rolled her eyes and slid her feet out of her sandals, very deliberately wiping the excess mud from her feet onto the cream-colored carpet. "Bastard," she mumbled under her breath.

"Rukia, I told you to stop that!" Ichigo got up from his chair and crossed the room. Though he towered over Rukia by well over a foot, she didn't seem intimidated in the slightest.

"Believe it or not, you're not the only one who's had a hard day," she began. "I killed fourteen Hollows while you were at school, Ichigo. _Fourteen. _And then you come home bitching about how tired you are. And, of course, the sky opened up the minute I walked out of the convenience store, and I had to come all the way back here _without an umbrella!_" Rukia was almost in tears. "You're lucky this carpet is cleanable. I could be smashing things instead, you know."

_True, _Ichigo thought. _Still, I'm every bit as entitled to a temper tantrum as she is, and you don't see me stomping around muddying everything up._

"Whatever," Ichigo said passively. He pointed at the mess on the floor. "You know _you're _going to be the one cleaning that up, right?"

That was all it took.

Rukia tackled Ichigo much more easily than one would have expected, given their difference in heights and sizes. Even in her gigai, which was now at the age of twenty, Rukia hadn't grown much. Sure, she had grown a few inches and gotten curvier, but her differences were nothing compared to Ichigo's. His five years' worth of fighting off Hollows had paid off nicely for him; he had well-defined muscles that sometimes seemed to rival even Chad's. His height no longer made him look lanky and skinny, but rather strong and intense. And although he was currently annoyed with Rukia, he couldn't help but marvel at the effortlessness with which she pinned him down to the carpet.

_Damn, she's strong._

Rukia smirked triumphantly, murmuring a binding spell as she held down his arms. He was almost too quick for her, almost caught her in the split-second after she released her iron grip on his wrists to clasp her hands together and perform the spell.

Almost.

_Damn, _Ichigo thought as he felt a heaviness spread around the muscles of his arms and torso.

Rukia's smirk grew even wider as Ichigo struggled uselessly against the binding spell. Still dripping dark, murky rainwater, she aligned her right side with Ichigo's left, then rolled her body so that she was on top of Ichigo, soaking his clothes as well. He gave a surprised yelp. "You bitch! Now I'm soaked too!"

Rukia looked down at her handiwork, giggling a little at the fact that her breasts were the most noticeable part of the outline. "Not quite," she said, reflecting ruefully on how dry he still was compared to her. She pressed herself against him again, but the second time did little more than make her cold and cause Ichigo to shout again, this time into her eardrum.

Rukia frowned. "Damn, I can't even take revenge right today," she whined.

"Then why don't you let me go?" Ichigo suggested, giving up his squirming and struggling against the spell. Rukia may not have been the world's best avenger, but she worked hard to ensure that no one could ever accuse her of performing inferior _kidou._

"Nah," she replied. "I'll just have to do it another way." Still kneeling next to Ichigo, she balanced on her tiptoes long enough to pull the hem of her dress up to her knees. She bunched up the fabric at the bottom of her dress, fisted her hand around it, and proceeded to lift it up higher and higher until it was over her head.

Ichigo watched with satisfaction as Rukia shivered at the coolness of the air against her still-damp skin. "Oi. Let me go and I'll turn down the air for ya," he offered.

Rukia replied by bundling up her dress in a tight dark wad and wringing out the excess water all over his face and neck.

"Augh! You're a _bitch, _Rukia!" Ichigo spluttered in protest of her actions.

She smiled her most deceptive, devilishly sweet smile. "I know." She tossed her dress aside and stood up. Unfortunately for Ichigo, she failed to miss the slight blush that had begun to form on Ichigo's cheeks at the sight of her in her (still very wet) undergarments.

"See something you like, Ichigo?" she asked innocently. Ichigo mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "Go to hell" before replying, "Can you undo this stupid binding spell now?"

"That depends. Are you going to try and get back at me?"

"Of course I am, dumbass," he answered.

Rukia sighed. "At least you're honest," she mused as she released her hold on her captive. Ichigo immediately leapt up, and Rukia narrowly avoided hitting the door frame on her way out of the study.

There wasn't much of anywhere to go – two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, a living room, and a study were the only rooms that made up the apartment the two shinigami called home. But Rukia tried anyway, feigning right and then sprinting left at the last minute. Her elementary move did the trick; due to the slight delay caused by confusion, she had just enough time to barricade herself into her bedroom before Ichigo caught up and ran smack into the door.

"Don't make me get Zangetsu for this," Ichigo threatened as he pounded on the door with his fist. "Rukia, get your ass out here!"

"No," was her immediate and emphatic response.

"Fine, then I'll just come in through the – "

"Bathroom's locked from your side," she said, cutting him off in mid-sentence. Although the shared bathroom adjoined both of their rooms, its doors locked from the inside. They had both agreed when they moved in that it would eliminate the possibility of any awkward accidental confrontations, but Ichigo was starting to think Rukia was abusing its purpose.

"Damn you," he said. "I can pick the lock – "

"No need," Rukia said, opening the door just a crack, then jumping out of the way. Ichigo, who had been leaning against the wood with all his might, crashed heavily to the floor. The resulting _thump! _was almost loud enough to drown out Rukia's stifled giggle.

Almost.

"Damn, woman, don't laugh at me." He sounded more than a little put out.

"Sorry," Rukia said halfheartedly, once again kneeling next to Ichigo, who was rubbing his head from the fall. "Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?"

Ichigo didn't answer, only stared out into space, scowling.

"Oh, don't tell me you can't handle a little bump to the – AAH!" Rukia found herself unexpectedly pinned beneath Ichigo. Her skin had begun to warm up as the water evaporated off it, but she found herself flinching and shivering once again from contact with Ichigo's cool damp clothing. "Oi. Get off me."

"No," Ichigo answered, and she couldn't help but notice the note of triumph in his voice.

Rukia gave a small 'hmph' and asked, "So now that you've got me, what do you plan to do?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "What do you think I'm going to do, midget? I'm going to rub it in your face that _I_ win this time."

Rukia's eyes glinted dangerously. "Do you now?" she challenged him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Rukia placed one hand on the back of Ichigo's upper thigh and slid the other one under his shirt. She ran the tips of her nails up and down his back, and she smirked when she felt him tense up just the tiniest bit under her feather-light touch.

"Oh no you don't," Ichigo protested, swatting her hands away from his backside. "I said _I'm_ going to win this time."

_Damn._

Rukia leaned upwards, planting a trail of openmouthed kisses across Ichigo's jaw line. He let out a sensual, surprised gasp, and Rukia felt a familiar jolt of adrenaline to her abdomen. He was nearly suffocating her with his body weight, but she couldn't get much oxygen anyway at the rate her hormones were raging.

"Rukiaaaaaa," Ichigo moaned, drawing out the last syllable of her name. "Stop."

"Idunwanna," she mumbled in between kisses. She found it hard to believe that only a moment ago she had been shivering with cold from the contact with Ichigo. Now she felt like she was on fire. She knew Ichigo felt it too; she could feel his heart rate and breathing speed up, and he kept trying (with little success) to strangle his moans. She took a sort of prideful satisfaction in the way he kept shifting his weight restlessly from side to side, fighting hard to resist the temptation she was presenting him with.

Rukia kissed his chin one last, slow time, running her tongue gently over the familiar outline of his jawbone. She looked into his eyes, which were as heavily laden with desire as hers were. The tension hung so thick in the air between them that even Ichigo's huge zanpakutou might not have been able to slice it. And, as usual, Ichigo and Rukia were both being stubborn about it. It had always been a sort of game between the two, to see who could hold out the longest before giving into their passion. (Ichigo had lost the very first time, when he had swallowed his pride and pressed his lips tenderly against Rukia's in a moment of weakness; but he wouldn't let her forget that he had won many rounds since then.) Now, hot and weak with desire, the couple felt that their "game" would soon be drawing to a close….

The tension broke with an almost audible _snap!, _so fast that neither of the two were able to tell who deserved the right to brag.

Ichigo once again pinned Rukia to the ground, keeping her down with no force other than his weight, since his hands were occupied by skimming up and down her sides, from armpit to knee, stopping occasionally to press fingers against bare flesh. Rukia squirmed under his touch, wrapping her arms around his lower back and tracing abstract patterns onto the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Their tongues battled relentlessly, mouths opening and closing in an irregular but flawlessly synced rhythm. Rukia pushed Ichigo off her and flat onto his back, pausing only long enough to give him a devilish grin before pouncing onto his chest and initiating another mind-numbing kiss. Ichigo fisted his hands around locks of Rukia's soft black hair and brushed his fingertips across her cheeks and chin and neck. Rukia drew away to kiss down Ichigo's jaw line again, and Ichigo tried to form words and _say_ something instead of just moaning helplessly. He gave up when he found, after several tries, that the closest he could come to saying "I love you" was a monosyllabic groan.

_Damn, why is it that she can _always_ turn my brain into a pile of mush?_

Hungry for more of Rukia's taste, Ichigo braced his arms against the ground and sat up, abruptly cutting off Rukia's string of kisses by dropping her curled-up form from his chest to his lap. She let out a startled gasp, and he seized the opportunity to capture her lips with his and once again trace his tongue around her mouth. She moaned with pleasure, and he smiled into the kiss, finally deciding it was the right moment for his hands to begin thoroughly exploring her body.

Rukia had at first been surprised to find that, for someone who normally showed so much indifference – even shyness – toward women, Ichigo certainly wasn't as naïve as she expected when it came to feeling her up. (Hell, he wasn't naïve with _anything _when it came to their relationship; Rukia had begun to take on a whole new appreciation for the word _instinct_.) He knew just the right amount of pressure to use and where, and he did it so _slowly_ that it nearly drove her insane with desire. The first time he had done it, her mind and instincts had had a magnificent battle between the two extremes of stopping him before she hyperventilated, or ripping off his clothes and having her way with him right in the middle of the bathroom floor. (She had ended up compromising, as she had stayed dressed but allowed him to slip his hands under her shirt and continue the massage.) Now, well over a year later and after _much_ practice, Ichigo had gotten infinitely better, and Rukia never failed to be amazed at how absolutely _wonderful_ he could make her feel.

Ichigo slowed down the kiss, finally stopping it altogether once he had worked his way down to her breasts, pressing his mouth instead against her heaving chest while he massaged her through her bra. He left trails of fire from his fingertips and lips, all the way down to her thighs, until she couldn't take it anymore and she guided his mouth toward hers again, kissing him with renewed aggression and vigor.

Their bodies couldn't keep still, and their arms and legs became so intertwined that Rukia was sure any onlooker would have probably had trouble telling which body part belonged to whom, had it not been for the fact that Ichigo was still mostly clothed while she was not. She wondered for the thousandth time if Urahara had known before he made her gigai that she would likely end up with Ichigo, because every part of her body seemed to fit _perfectly_ against him, as if she had been made for him.

_As if we had been made for each other, _she reminded herself absently, _since my gigai really looks exactly like I do_….

Ichigo and Rukia took turns shoving each other against the walls (and, in the process, accidentally bumping their heads against the door frame). Moving locations, of course, was out of the question, since it meant that they would have to untangle themselves long enough to walk, crawl, or even sprint somewhere else. Their wrestling match became more and more animated as they got more and more restless, and after a while they both began to taste blood from the force with which they were kissing.

Ichigo had once pointed out to Rukia that they tended to be almost as violent making out as they were in killing Hollows – without the zanpakutous and (sometimes) kidou, of course. Though it was really meant as a joke, there was a satisfying half-truth to the statement, as they had to take breaks from their passionate makeout sessions almost as frequently as they _wished _they could take breaks while battling Hollows.

After a hazy twenty minutes, Ichigo and Rukia were both panting so hard they could barely talk. Rukia gave it a try anyway, though, grimacing a little through lips she was sure were going to be swollen for hours. "Shower," she panted. "I need… cold… go." She tried to shoo Ichigo away, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.

"I think… we both… need… showers," Ichigo said in between huffy breaths. "You got… mud... all over… me."

It was only partially true. Sure, pretty much his whole front was covered with the nasty rainwater, since it had spread and smeared while they were making out. But he was still fully clothed, and she doubted much of it had seeped beneath his shirt and jeans.

"No… just me," she insisted. "Hot… need to… cool off."

She sat for another minute in his arms, despite her mind screaming at her to get moving. Both Ichigo's and Rukia's heart rates and breathing began to slow down, at least to the point that they could speak.

"Ichigo, let me take a shower."

"You left your soap – "

"I don't care about the damn soap!"

Ichigo gaped at her. "It sure seemed to make a hell of a lot of difference to you earlier," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but that was _earlier_. This is _now_. And I think if I stay in your arms one more minute, I'm going to rip your clothes off."

"And… that would be a _bad_ thing?"

"Augh! Ichigo! Don't you have _any _discipline whatsoever?" Rukia shouted in irritation.

"Not around you," he said softly into her ear.

Rukia glared at him and – _very _reluctantly – pulled herself out of the comfort of his arms. "I am going to take an extremely cold shower now. By myself. And then I'm going to get dressed _and stay that way for the rest of the day._"

"What about the ni – "

Rukia answered with a hard kick to his thigh. She made a crystal-clear point that she had "missed" on purpose.

Ichigo sighed dejectedly. "Go ahead," he said, making a very poor attempt at sounding indifferent.

Rukia didn't know if it was the hurt in his voice, or the way he stuck his bottom lip out ever so slightly, or the fact that he had just given in, or her hormones going haywire and making him so damn _irresistible,_ that made her change her mind. But at the moment, she couldn't really say that she cared. Rukia leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom and crossed her arms, letting out an audible sigh.

"Fine," she said quietly. "You can come too."

Ichigo's pout disappeared immediately and he sprang to his feet. Rukia rolled her eyes and turned away as Ichigo began to strip off his shirt. She walked to the shower and turned the COLD knob all the way to the right.

A hand reached over and turned it left halfway, then twisted the one labeled HOT almost all the way to the right.

"Ichigo. I did say I was getting a _cold _shower, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but – "

"But nothing. I need a _cold _shower."

Rukia froze as she felt Ichigo's hands undo the clasps on her bra.

"Ichi," she breathed, "that's not fair – "

"All's fair in love and war, baby," he replied, slipping his hands under her panties. They fell around her ankles, and she stepped into the shower regardless of the heat she _certainly_ did not need.

Ichigo got in behind her and closed the frosted glass door. The water was a little hotter than he had intended it to be – it scalded his skin a bit – but Rukia didn't complain, so neither did he. Ichigo backed as far into the corner as he could to allow Rukia space to take her shower – after all, he still ran a very good risk of being kicked out if he got in her way.

_Shit, why did I have to get a place with such a tiny shower?_

Ichigo grinned, remembering the day – _was it really less than two years ago?_ – that he had moved into his apartment. He was pretty sure that anyone who had told him at that point that he would one day be showering with Rukia would have been beaten severely with his zanpakutou. He knew he had had _some _feelings for her back then, but he had been too stubborn to admit it, even to himself.

_I had no idea what I was missing, _he concluded as his eyes traveled over Rukia's gorgeous body. She was using his soap once again, but he decided to let it slide this time – after all, she _had _gone through quite a lot in order to get her own.

She was making an effort, and he knew that was Rukia's way of thanking him.

"Are you going to wash yourself off, or just stare at me the whole time?" Rukia asked bluntly, snapping Ichigo out of his reverie. "It might look like the mud is gone, but there's still this orangey film – "

Ichigo cut her off with a searing kiss, pressing her back against the opposite wall of the shower. She shivered, from the sudden contact with the still-cool ceramic tile and from having been pushed out from under the stream of scalding water and from the intensity of the kiss. She melted into Ichigo's arms, and he crushed himself against her, his lips moving hungrily against hers. She pushed him back a little, so that they were under the jet of water, and their lips and faces were slippery against one another, and his taste kept getting washed out of her mouth by the chemical taste of shower water, but she didn't care because it felt so damn _good _with his hands roaming up and down her sides and his bare body pressing against hers. She didn't care that she was, for all intents and purposes, dead; she felt _alive _and _real _and _needed _and _loved _and all the things that she had never felt at the Soul Society….

She had absolutely no idea how Ichigo always managed to do this to her. Every single time, she got cold chills and hot flashes at the same time, and he somehow managed to kiss her until she couldn't think straight – was lucky if she could think _at all_. He drove her crazy and kept her sane, made sure she was always on her toes because the only predictable thing about Ichigo was that he was always coming up with new ways to be unpredictable. But she never had to keep up her stupid shield around him, never had to pretend that something didn't hurt her when it did, never had to pretend to care about something she didn't really give a damn about….

(Because really, besides fighting Hollows and keeping the world and the Soul Society safe, the only thing she really gave a damn about was _him_.)

With difficulty, Rukia pulled away from the kiss. She ran her fingers through Ichigo's wet hair and laughed – when it wasn't spiked, it looked ridiculous and long. "You bastard," she chided him, "I just got myself clean and you had to go and get me all muddy and nasty again."

Ichigo lightly bit the arm that was caressing his head. Rukia yelped. "Call me a bastard again and I'll bite you somewhere else."

Rukia clapped a hand over his mouth and shoved his head against the wall. "Bastard!" she shouted. "Try and bite me now!" He struggled to free himself from her grip, but she held on tightly.

Ichigo, who was leaning at an angle against the shower wall, slipped during the struggle and landed quite gracefully with his back pressed flat against the wall opposite the shower jet.

"Smooth," Rukia commented. Ichigo flipped her off.

Rukia bent down, straddling Ichigo's bent legs, and sat as far down to his lap as his folded legs in the cramped shower would allow. Her head was a little above his, and her back was to the shower jet, blocking the water from hitting Ichigo's face.

"This is really cramped," Ichigo pointed out. "Thanks for your brilliant shower idea, Rukia."

"It was _you_ who insisted on showering with me, dumbass," she quipped, smacking him upside the forehead.

"You're an annoying midget, you know that?" Ichigo said as he rubbed his forehead.

"Well, at least I don't have to bend my legs to fit against the bottom of the shower," Rukia bragged. She climbed off Ichigo and sat facing him, stretching her legs out so that they touched the opposite wall. Okay, so she had to bend her knees a _little_, but she still fit a lot better than six-foot-three-and-a-quarter Ichigo.

"Whatever," he replied, sounding a little disappointed at Rukia's change in position.

Rukia grinned and wrapped one leg under Ichigo's knees. She slipped it around his waist, giving him room to swing one of his legs over her other one, which left her trapped between his feet. Rukia leaned forward and kissed him beneath the steaming jet of water.

"God, you're beautiful," Ichigo said as he watched the water drip down in rivulets off Rukia's face. Her hair looked so soft, so fluid, almost as if it were going to melt away; her eyes were big and bright and gorgeous; her skin was so perfect –

They kissed again, and again, and again, until they began to lose track of their kisses and of the time and the water bill was going to be a million yen –

"Holy shit, the water!" Ichigo shouted. He reached up and turned it off – something that Rukia herself couldn't have done without getting up, she noted ruefully – and turned back to her.

"You know, you're not much of a romantic," Rukia commented. "You know just how to ruin the moment."

Ichigo looked away and flushed. "Sorry."

Rukia raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Did you just say 'sorry'? For something that you didn't really even do wrong?"

Ichigo leaned his head back against the shower wall and looked up, left, right – anywhere but at Rukia. "I'm always doing crap like that," he explained. "I can't ever get it right with you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Their eyes met. "I just can't – I always – I… see, even now!" He groaned in frustration. "I always screw something up! _I love you,_ Rukia, you know that – I've told you a million times – but I don't feel like it's enough. You make me feel so… hell, I can't even find the _word_ for how good you make me feel. I've never been the romantic type – I mean, I've tried, for your sake – but I just… I want to be able to do that to you too – "

"And you think you don't?" Rukia asked incredulously. "Ichigo, do you have any _clue _how you make me feel? You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I mean _ever. _I've lived a hundred years longer than you and never, _never _have I even come _close _to feeling for anyone what I feel for you." As if to prove her point, Rukia gave Ichigo a fiery, passionate kiss. "I love you too, Ichigo, with all my soul – I'd die a thousand times over and then some for you."

Ichigo grinned. "You know, I think I've got a head start on that – I've already died once for you, midget." He stood up and offered her his hand.

As Rukia stepped out of the shower, she noticed that the whole bathroom was thick with steam. _Damn, did we really stay in there _that _long? _she wondered to herself as she reached for a clean towel.

Once she was done drying off, she handed the towel to Ichigo. "Damn," he said, "all that and we didn't even get to have sex. What a shame."

"Who said we weren't going to have sex?" Rukia asked mischievously.

Ichigo raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wait, what – "

"You idiot, did you actually think I'd be cruel enough to get you all worked up and not do something about it? Especially after that conversation. Damn. You _do_ know how to get to a woman's heart, even if you don't let on about it much." She grinned. "Let's see… where would you like it, Ichi-kun? Personally, I'm a fan of the kitchen table – "

"Floor," Ichigo said. "Now." He placed his hands on her shoulders, but Rukia held out a hand to stop him.

"Wait," she said. "Not yet."

Ichigo whimpered. "Why not? I thought you just said – "

"I never said _right now,_" Rukia argued slyly. "We still have something that needs to be taken care of."

"_I have something that needs to be taken care of _– " Ichigo started desperately.

"All that mud in your study. Who's going to clean it?" Rukia asked pointedly, ignoring Ichigo's whining. Really, he _did_ act so childishly sometimes.

Ichigo looked at her inquisitively. "'The hell are you talking about? If you expect to stay in this apartment, _you are._"

"If you expect me to ever go to that blasted store again for _anything, you _are," she argued.

Ichigo sighed and glanced downward. "How about we discuss this over dinner?"

Rukia thought for a moment, then nodded her approval. "I guess," she complied, then turned and began to walk out of the bathroom.

"Wait, where the hell are you going?" Ichigo asked.

"To find something for dinner," Rukia replied evilly.

"You are a _bitch, _Kuchiki," Ichigo said through gritted teeth. "What the hell am _I _supposed to do now?"

"Screw me on the table, like I wanted in the first place," Rukia suggested as she made a break for the kitchen.

Ichigo shook his head and took off, following close behind her. _I love her, but damn, she can be a friggin' pain sometimes._

Ah well. All is fair in love and war. And for Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia, there didn't seem to be much of a distinction between the two.

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_**A/N:** ... Review, please! 


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